


Bournville

by eyelikeamagpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dark Chocolate, Fluff, Other, Rare Pairings, Season/Series 05 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyelikeamagpie/pseuds/eyelikeamagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Archangel Gabriel first heard the phrase 'flirting with Death', he'd never expected to take it literally. Naturally, he'd indulged in the metaphorical sense more than once - playing a Pagan God didn't come without its fair share of danger, after all - but this? This was a whole new level.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bournville

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the two amazing tumblr cosplay blogs; thewingedtrickster and universal-flyswatter. Because they are awesome and I am incredibly jealous of them both. I was aiming for crack, but I think I missed, so have some angst instead.  
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.  
> Enjoy~

"You're beginning to give me a bad name." 

Death clasped the shining handle of his cane with long, thin fingers, holding it at a perfect right-angle to the floor. He was on his feet, electing to ignore the high backed ebony chair behind him in favour of watching his visitor with dark eyes that only made his skin seem paler, the crisp lines of his suit unmarred and untouched. 

In short, he was a stark contrast to the archangel sat before him, all smugness and sarcasm. Gabriel wore jeans, a leather jacket and a smirk - hardly the correct attire for his current company, but then, he hadn't been given much warning. 

"No offence, but you've pretty much managed that one on your own. What with the killing." The angel fluttered his fingers in a way that was obviously meant to mean something, perpetual smirk widening. 

"I could say the same to you." Death's expression didn't change, entirely impassive save for a single raised eyebrow. "How many times have you cheated me now?"

Because there was no point in stalling. This archangel had escaped his own demise far too often, for the Horseman's taste. He'd sent Reapers after the being, only to have them return empty handed - if they returned at all. 

"We talkin' this month, or the whole year?" Gabriel enquired, lounging back in his chair. "Nothing personal, y'know. I just happen to like being alive. You should try it sometime." His brows rose almost obscenely as the smirk widened into a grin. 

"That would rather defeat the object, don't you think?" Death's features shifted into something like amused derision; chin lowered, eyebrow raised, watching Gabriel intently. "We're not here to discuss me, angel."

"Maybe we should be. I know a cry for help when I see one. Don't worry, you'll benefit from my expertise.” The archangel’s arms folded across his chest, somehow managing to look smug despite the power imbalance between them. “Plus, it’s a far more interesting topic than the way I keep hopping on and off of your list like a lemur on steroids. Some things are best left to the imagination.”

He crossed his ankles comfortably, apparently pleased with his argument.

“Then you already know why you’re here.” The Horseman replied calmly, sinking into his seat without a sound.

“Because I’m such engaging company? Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Because, of all the beings in Creation, you are the one that has caused me the most trouble.” Death’s tone was sharp, now, pointed and dangerous in a way that had made lesser beings tremble.

There was a pause. Then;

“Yeah, I get that a lot, too. You’d be surprised.”

For a long moment, there was silence. Dark, piercing eyes fixed on their smirking golden counterparts, searching for some spark of fear in the youngest archangel’s gaze, and finding nothing. Of all the countless souls and Graces he’d seen over his millennia of existence, that was a first.

“If you wanted me dead, I would be.” Gabriel pointed out, as though in response to those thoughts. “Maybe you’ve just got a soft spot for me. It’s okay, I know I’m irresistible.”

In less time than it took to blink, Death was on his feet, towering over the angel. His expression was unreadable, detached, but his eyes were fixed unerringly on Gabriel, and his cane was extended, tilting the other’s chin up to meet his gaze.

“Don’t get confident, angel.”

“I like a man who takes control.”

“I am not a man.”

Slowly, the cane was lowered to rest against the floor once more, though the eyes stayed fixed in place.

“Nor am I.” Gabriel reminded him, ever-present smirk still curling the corners of his lips. He rose to his feet – though the movement was considerably less impressive than it could have been, due to the fact that Death still loomed over him – and folded his arms again across his chest. “We’re both immortal beings older than time. Ain’t that a turn-up for the books?”

“You are not immortal.” The Horseman’s tone was cool, eyebrow half raised as though daring Gabriel to disagree.

“Apparently, I am.” The archangel smirked, mimicking the expression.

Death did not seem amused. 

Again, the cane rose; cold metal tip pressed to the hollow of the archangel's throat, turning the skin around it white with the pressure. Gabriel swallowed convulsively. 

"You can die just as easily as anybody else, little dove." His voice was calm, almost considering, as he watched the golden eyes fix upon his own. And still, there was no fear. Trepidation, a little wariness, perhaps - but no true _fear_. "You'd do well to remember that."

The pause that followed was longer, this time; heavy with the weight of the almost-threat in his words. 

"Then why am I still standing?"

It was an unbearably smug response, and Death - who had been expecting lowered eyes and deference - found himself irked by the impunity of it. So much so, in fact, that a frown settled onto his usually impassive features, a visible display of his displeasure. Gabriel, however, continued on. 

"I've been around a damn long time, y'know. Maybe not as long as you, but long enough that I've given up waiting for the punchline." He batted the cane away from his neck, leaving a line of reddened skin as it dragged over his flesh. The movement surprised the Horseman so much that he almost dropped the thing. Almost. "When I die, it's gonna be on my terms." The angel continued, still carrying that air of infuriating self-assurance. "And nobody's gonna change that."

* * *

"I don't want to."

For once, Gabriel's voice was devoid of amusement, lips set in a hard line as he stood over his own body. Shadows of wings charred the floor surrounding it, blood blooming across its chest. 

"Nobody ever does."

Death stood beside him, eyes tracing the outline of the ashen wings against the wood floor. 

"Why? Just once, the one time I try and do the right thing-" The angel cut himself off, teeth gritted. "What happened to 'fortune favours the brave'?"

"The man that coined that particular phrase died hours later in a volcanic eruption." Death pointed out dryly. "Hardly the best source of advice."

Gabriel scowled. 

"Can't you do something? Can't you fix this?"

Death shook his head.

"That's not why I'm here."

At those words, anger broke across the angel's features; hurt and fury fighting for dominance in his expression. His gaze stayed fixed upon his own gold-haired corpse, but his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. 

"Then why  _are_ you here?"

His companion's mood didn't deter the Horseman; Death simply turned his head to glance at him, eyebrow raised. 

"Would you rather die alone?" He asked.  

"I'd rather not die at all."

"No tricks this time, Trickster. No more second chances." Death's tone was firm - if a little regretful - and Gabriel sagged, defeated.

"Finally got me, huh? Bet you're so proud. There's one thing to cross off your bucket list; kill an archangel."

It was unjust, he knew, but bitterness was seeping through the anger, now. He'd been trying to do the right thing, and this was his reward? It wasn't right. It wasn't  _fair_. 

"I didn't kill you. You chose this." The tone was almost accusatory. "You chose the side with the highest mortality rate. You chose to fight your brother."

There was a pause in which Gabriel finally tore his gaze away from the body that had once been his own. In which the carefully constructed dam surrounding his emotions shattered, so that he was turning to Death with  _everything_  he was feeling displayed clearly in golden eyes. Eyes that shimmered with more than just the dying embers of Grace. 

"I don't want to go."

A pale hand cupped the side of his cheek, long fingers standing out starkly against the tan skin. Even in death, the angel looked so  _alive_. 

"I know."

Despite the words, a wavering light was beginning to fade into existence several feet away. Gabriel eyed it cautiously as the Horseman's hand fell away, watching the shifting patterns like he had any hope of being able to see what lay beyond. 

"Y'know, there's a cliche in here somewhere." He pointed out. His usually flippant tone had degraded into a shaky sort of laugh, too quiet to be hysterical, but close to it. "So what's past that? Heaven? Hell?  _Dad?_ " He snorted derisively. "Or do I just cease to exist?"

Death didn't respond; simply raised an eyebrow and offered out a pale hand. 

There was a pause, a moment of complete silence as the room held its breath. 

And finally, Gabriel took it. 


End file.
